And then again another thought, previously ignored, pierced him like a
sword. If it were true; if Amy herself, poor pretty Amy, had indeed
been there, were indeed near him now, hammering and crying out like a
child shut out at night, against his own skeptical heart ... if it
were indeed true that during those two hours she had had her heart's
desire, and had been one with his very soul, in a manner to which no
earthly union could aspire ... how had he treated her? Even at this
thought a shudder of repulsion ran through him.... It was unnatural,
detestable ... yet how sweet...! What did the Church say of such
things...? But what if religion were wrong, and this indeed were the
satiety of the higher nature of which marriage was but the material
expression...?
The thoughts flew swifter than clouds as he sat there, bewildering,
torturing, beckoning. He made a violent effort. He must be sane, and
face things.
"Mr. Vincent," he cried.
The kindly face turned to him again.
"Mr. Vincent...."
"Hush, I quite understand," said the fatherly voice. "It is a shock, I
know; but Truth is a little shocking sometimes. Wait. I perfectly
understand that you must have time.
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